The Chess Set
by Jinzle
Summary: Sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants, no matter how long ago it was.


The Chess Set

I hurried along the sidewalk as quickly as my long legs would carry me. The cold winter wind stung my eyes, forcing me to lower my head. Because of this, I was not able to meet the eyes of those passing by me. This suited me just fine as my face still burned hot from my meeting with General Burkhalter. The meeting had not gone well. I felt myself flinch as I remembered the large chunk of my posterior the General had bitten off. I tried vainly to explain the high price of the most basic foodstuffs. "Cut expenses," was all Burkhalter had to say. In vain I showed him my books and spreadsheets regarding the cost of the local produce. All my pleas came to nothing. His response was the war was going badly and everyone had to tighten their belts. I felt my stomach spasm painfully in protest at the piece of toast and a weak cup of Getreidekaffee (1) I had for for breakfast. I am not sure that there is anything left to trim from the camp's budget. At least the prisoners had their Red Cross packages, even if they were a rare commodity. My men are starving. For all their griping, Hogan's men were lucky. There were no care packages for Germans. The Führer's war had not brought glory to the fatherland, only a slow agonizing death.

Fear gripped at me for my treasonous thoughts. I quickly looked around me fearing that I had spoken the words aloud. Everyone seemed to be going about his or her business. No one denounced me. I felt myself relaxing a little, but just a little. In Germany, a knock at the door was as feared as a Russian T-34 tank rolling down the Voßstraße (2). I could feel my hands shaking. I gripped the swagger stick tightly under my left arm and placed my balled fist behind my back in a small effort to calm myself.

As I round the corner, I come across a little shop that I had never noticed before. The name painted on the glass was Christoph's Leihhauser (3). I would have not given it another thought and hurried on my way, but my eye caught an ivory chess set in the window. I felt in awe of the hours the artist spent carving the intricately detailed set. Someone must have been desperate to pawn such a beautiful item. I felt myself being pulled back in time as old memories flooded my consciousness. Old wounds and hurts I thought I had put to bed long ago, seemed as fresh as when they first occurred.

I remember as a child looking at the set my father had. The pieces were so beautiful it fired my young imagination, especially the Queen. She was a goddess to me, magnificent in detail. Her long flowing hair and regal appearance mesmerized me. Her eyes seemed to follow me as I moved through the room. I was her king, her knight, her defender. Badgering my father relentlessly, he finally taught me the game. I can still feel the warmth of the ivory radiating in my hand, my fingers remembering every vivid detail. My eyes closed as the intensity of those memories overwhelms me.

As I grew older, I put away those childish dreams, but my love for the chess set never wavered. I had hoped that if I were good enough, if I made him proud enough, he would grace me with it upon his death. I practiced constantly but never became proficient at the game. I sensed his frustration with me. He would have been happy if I had just given up. It was obvious I was never destined to be a master, but I just could not let it go. It was an obsession. I spoke of it often, trying to give him subtle hints. I do not know if he ever understood my longing. If he did, he never spoke of it.

I was a young Hauptmann(4) when word was sent to me my father was dying. I obtained leave and rushed home to be by his side. Knowing that the end was near, he had started to give away his belongings to those who meant something to him in his life. I vacillated between hope and despair. I hoped he would remember my love for the set, and yet at the same time I felt if I was hoping for his death by desiring the thing to the extent that I did.

The day before his death, my brother Wolfgag pulled me aside. He knew of my dearest wish. Wolfie stated Father had planned to leave it to me. I was elated but it was short lived. He said he thought it would be better if Father passed it on to my nephew Gregor, especially since, unlike myself, my nephew was a talented player. It only made sense it went to him. Intellectually I understood, but my heart was broken. How could my brother ask this of me? I felt greedy and small. Wolfie said that it was Father's wish for Gregor receive it but because I had mooned after it for so long, but Father was hesitant. It was mine if I insisted. It was as if a knife had been plunged deep into my heart. I think the world actually stopped for a moment.

I love my nephew, often thinking of him as the son I never had. Wolfgang knew this, patiently waited and watched while I battled myself. In the end, I just gave in and did what was expected of me. Gregor was overjoyed as Father and my brother placed the set into his hands. I watched as his fingers caressed the teak inlay board, fondling each elegant piece. Every nerve in my body screamed to snatch it from him but I remained silent in my misery. He never knew the sacrifice I made for him. In the end, I guess it does not matter what he knew. It now sits in a place of honor in his home and I have Father's pocket watch. It is not as if Father had forgotten me. Then why does it feel as if he had? It was so long ago. I cannot believe that at fifty, the pain is just as vivid as when it first occurred. I am a silly man.

I find myself still gazing longingly at the set in the window. A part of me is tempted to buy it. After all, it is beautiful and is selling for a quarter of what it is worth. I am sure I could talk the sales clerk into selling it for less than the asking price. Somehow, it is not the same. It is not the one my heart remembers. It is not my first love.

I turn from the window and continue up the street to where my staff car is waiting. Perhaps I will invite Hogan to my office for a game. I could tell him about the set I saw in the window, but probably will not. Hogan would just smirk and say something cutting and witty. I do not think my heart could bear it. Some things are better left unsaid, some wounds better left not shared.

_a/n:_

_Getreidekaffee was a grain coffee used as a substitute coffee during WWII._

_Voßstraße is the road in Berlin where Hitler's Reich Chancellery sits._

_A Leihhauser is a German Pawn Shop._

_Hauptmann is the Luftwaffe equivalent of a Captain._


End file.
